The gravedigger addressed the skull by name. It was the court jester Yorick, remembered by Hamlet as a fellow of infinite jest. Fool or prince, death snares all things at last. For many, this counts as wisdom: death, the implacable, has the last laugh. We may quibble over whether only fools fear death. But in the end, bones and ash are the everlasting.

Jesus, like a jester, upends this common wisdom. At a distance, decay seems to rule. The daily news is a drumbeat of untimely demise: war, atrocity, disease, hunger, unemployment, and imprisonment. At a distance, cynicism spreads its mantle and spectators lose hope. Upon entering into the fray, the power of life becomes visible. Lazarus was not the exception. The movement from death back into life happens daily. With a closer look, the resurrections in the ordinary pile up at our door.

To enter into mystery, it’s best to start small. Begin with family ruptures that eventually mend. Friends and laughter restore us at the day’s end. Persons in the grip of addictions seek help. The beauty of the garden lightens our load. Enemies agree to reconciliation. Workers stand up for their rights. Students acquire a thirst for justice. Gutsy journalists expose corruption. Conscience stings us into speaking out. Peaceful protestors put tyrants to rout. Leaders honor truth. The practice of religion calls us back to who we are.

When resurrection towers over everyday life, faith remains Olympian. Few can muster a leap into the unknown. But Martha is like us. She trusts a man she has come to know. Faith arises from the evidence of our senses. We don’t turn away from ordinary life to find God. The infinite comes calling.